


I Can't Be Who You Are

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Feels, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Bad Decisions, Banter, Best Friends, Bodyswap, Bromance, Canon-Typical Violence, Coping, Culture Shock, Disobeying Orders, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Medical Examination, Misplaced, Missions Gone Wrong, Mistaken Identity, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Partner Swapping, Personality Swap, Post-Mission, Rants, Recklessness, Scene Gone Wrong, Science Bros, Secret Crush, Self Confidence Issues, Species Swap, Surprises, Switching, Uncomfortable Wheeljack, Victim Blaming, problem solving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One could surmise that this entire situation was Ratchet’s fault. <br/>Optimus firmly believes a different story. <br/>Wheeljack is just...confused, and the humans aren't helping in the slightest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Be Who You Are

One could surmise that this entire situation was Ratchet’s fault. He hadn’t been paying enough attention to their resident runaway and—as per usual—Miko had decided to waltz along on the latest relic hunt. Jack and Raf had somehow gotten dragged along and when Ratchet finally noticed they were gone, he’d rushed after them.

His presence was, in the end, the catalyst for what had happened to them.

Ratchet would state things differently: that if Bulkhead hadn’t reacted to Miko’s appearance by _dropping_ the relic, everything would have turned out alright.

Instead, the relic had rolled across the ground, spreading its blinding golden light over them and then coming to a stop in their midst. Nothing had happened then and Optimus had crouched down to gently reseal the artifact. Ratchet had decided to make his untimely appearance through their ground bridge and all the pieces had fit.

Thus everything following _had_ to be Ratchet’s fault, correct?

But Bulkhead had _dropped_ it, had _broken_ it, Optimus pointed out, his tone stiffer than usual.

Wheeljack, having not been present on the mission—in fact, having arrived at the base many hours after—held up a weary hand. “Hang on, hang on. Let’s not lose it on each other, alright? Past is the past.” _Never thought I would have to say that to_ Prime _of all mechs_ , he thought privately before continuing, “Someone tell me what happened _after_ Bulk dropped the relic. Uh…Jack?”

The oldest of the humans glanced at him, mouth open as though he were going to respond, and then looked away without a word. Wheeljack was surprised but gestured to Miko. “Okay. Your turn, little Wrecker.”

“Well,” Miko started flatly, apparently not in the mood to spastically narrate, “after he dropped it, the golden light came out and pinpointed each of us.”

“Then when Ratchet showed up, the light turned green, like the relic knew it was ‘go time’ or something,” Arcee agreed, nodding vigorously. “And then it felt like the ground started shaking!”

Optimus ex-vented with a deep frown, though Wheeljack couldn’t quite tell who it was directed to. “The next thing I was aware of was that the artifact was spinning. It stopped when we all starting coming online and then its light sputtered out.” There was a brief pause and then Optimus threw his hands skyward before planting them on his lean hips. “We _needed_ that, Bulkhead!”

“Calm down, old friend,” Ratchet soothed, striding forward with an unusual air of calm to place a hand on Optimus’ arm. “Blaming Bulkhead will not resolve our dilemma.”

This was just getting more and more confusing. When Wheeljack glanced at his buddy, Bulkhead was cringing, his optics wide as he glanced pleadingly around for help. Wheeljack expected that gaze to fall on him, but instead it went to the smallest human. Raf squared his shoulders, craning his head up to glance between Optimus and Ratchet.

“I’m sorry, boss,” he said at last, his voice clear but uneasy. “I was just…concerned for Miko’s safety. You know how she is.”

Wheeljack turned to Optimus, who huffed. “Don’t we all.”

That was not the answer Wheeljack was expecting, nor was he expecting Arcee to glare audaciously at him, nor was he expecting Ratchet to approach Raf, lowering himself onto one knee.

“Protecting the humans is the greater mission, whatever the cost may be.”

Wheeljack blinked rapidly and then glanced at Bumblebee. “You have anything to add?”

Bee glanced at Jack, who hung his head, and then Bee pulled back his facemask and answered in perfect English, “I’m, umm, trying really hard to be calm about this, Wheeljack, but…we’ve all switched bodies.”

Wheeljack faltered, his hands clenching and unclenching helplessly. _So long, last semblance of control_.

—

Wheeljack glanced between the relic and the data pad in his hands, eyeing the list he had made of the body swaps. In the process he’d created a number of creative nicknames for these bizarre new beings, but the humor was lost on him.

So now they had a young scout learning that he was near at least the _human_ form of adulthood—yet the switch had done nothing for his vocals, simply made it so ‘Jack’ was a mute—and the human boy, having crushed his cell phone while trying to call his mother, was pacing and fretting, his doorwings going wild with his worries.

Wheeljack’s closest friend, one of the greatest, strongest and proudest Wreckers still alive, was now fragile and unsure, trying to avoid getting flattened by his own frame—a frame which was a pretty poor fit for the youngest human, tiptoeing gingerly, swinging his huge arms out for balance, and spouting theories of how it could have happened.

Wheeljack’s small but sturdy prospective sweetspark was under the guise of the _tiny_ but sturdy prospective Wrecker, both sitting in a corner together grumbling about their current predicament. Occasionally the humanized femme would fumble with the small mirror the mechanized girl would indicate and they would stare at their own reflections in dread.

“At least by the smallest of mercies our _genders_ weren’t changed!” Optimus declared irritably as he stalked past the female pair, catching Wheeljack’s attention. He sighed, rubbing his forehelm apprehensively. _That_ was the last, most obvious swap, and probably the most dangerous.

They had on their hands a cantankerous and medically trained Prime, leaving the form of their doctor with only the basest of medical knowledge and the fighting skills of a gladiator. Wheeljack had decided to keep well out of their way for now, letting the old friends pacify each other as best they could.

In the meantime, he was studying the relic, trying to find what could put everyone back in their proper place.

Wheeljack had given up science quite a long time ago, preferring his explosions to work their way _outside_ the lab where they could be useful. He had considered going to Primedic, a.k.a. Ratchet-in-Optimus, but he wasn’t at all used to working with the Prime’s hands, which weren’t fitted with his boosted sensory net and years of delicate work. It could just make things worse.

 _Although_ , Wheeljack mused as he gently lifted the relic and studied the underside, _I don’t think things could get any—_

The computerized alarms wailed to life, startling him into nearly losing hold of the object. Who knew what it could do to him without a partner in the transfer?! Setting it down gently, he sprinted out of the lab and to the main room, where everyone had gathered.

“Is it the proximity alarm?” Bumblebee asked. “Is it my mom?”

“No, kid,” Wheeljack brushed away the question, glad that the word could be used for both Bee and Jack without insulting either. “It’s Bucket Head and his merry machines.”

“How are we supposed to fight them like this?” Mikocycle (human Arcee) demanded, crossing her arms authoritatively.

“These human bodies are much too fragile to work with!” Wreck-It-Raf (human Bulkhead) agreed, backed up by a nod from DarBEE, a.k.a. human Bumblebee.

“True enough. Boss? What’re you thinkin’?” Wheeljack tried.

Doctimus (Optimus-in-Ratchet) squared his shoulders, his face slipping into a long-perfected stern expression, but with the added regal grace befitting a Matrix Bearer. “We cannot risk standing by while Megatron sets his plan in motion, whatever it may be.”

“Optimus!” Primedic protested. “If Team Prime takes their human forms into battle, who knows what damage could be inflicted upon them?!”

“That is why they will not be the ones in battle,” Doctimus replied calmingly. “They will take…”

Despite the increasing discomfort of this situation, Wheeljack couldn’t help but crack a smile when the displaced Prime stumbled a little over what to call his shifted team.

“…their guardians,” Optimus decided at last. “They will guide them from inside if battle should become necessary.”

“I suppose if there isn’t any other option,” Ratchet muttered. The sulk sounded so out of place in Optimus’ vocals and on his face.

“Okay, then,” Wheeljack concluded, heading for the ground bridge lever. “Guess we’re rollin’—”

“Can _I_ open the ground bridge?” Marcee (mechanized Miko) pleaded, almost hopping up and down in her excitement. “I’ve never been able to reach the switch…” She paused, glaring around the room. “And none of you guys will lift me high enough to pull it!”

“Because so far you have given us good reason to distrust you with anything concerning the ground bridge function!” Primedic shot back, to which the femme had no retort but a sly grin that somehow seemed to fit Arcee’s face.

Chuckling, Wheeljack stepped aside, putting a hand on her shoulder, just above her winglets, as she passed. When she twitched and gave him an odd look, he barely stopped himself from cringing. This wasn’t Arcee, but when it _was_ he’d developed the habit of brief gestures, hopeful little things that might inform her he was interested.

 _Did anyone else notice?!_ Wheeljack couldn’t help but glance around in mild panic, ready to be humiliated by their stares, only to find himself watching their rear bumpers as they departed through the bridge. Transforming, he hurried to catch up.

—

“Optimus,” Megatron greeted cheerfully from amidst a crowd of Vehicons as the Autobots stood from vehicle form, some more incrementally than others so as not to hurt their humanized teammates inside. “I’ve come not to fight but to ask a very simple question: the relic you recently obtained, what does it do?”

“Why would you want to know?” Wheeljack countered, keeping his voice calm despite the fact that he was in a rush to answer before any of his swapped teammates fragged everything up by answering wrong. He was as certain as the Pit that Megatron would take advantage of their tentative new status if he knew of it.

For a split second the warlord seemed miffed that one of Prime’s ‘underlings’ had answered him instead of his archenemy, but then he gave a weighty shrug and answered, “According to certain reports—” Starscream smirked in pride. “—the relic was activated and expelled its light onto your team.” He paused, a crooked little smile on his face. “Speaking of that, I would have assumed your medic would be occupied with ensuring their wellbeing. Unless the relic did nothing?”

Wheeljack opened his mouth to conjure up a lie he was still developing, but Optimus strode a few steps forward and scoffed, “As if we would give _you_ the secret to its function!”

Megatron’s eyebrows rose in interest to Optimus’ uncharacteristic spite and Wheeljack intervened again. “As if you’d trust everything Screamer tells you.”

Starscream, apparently feeling pricklier on this subject than usual, bristled and made to lift his weapon, with Arcee’s reckless inhabitant returning the gesture, though her hands refused to change form into blasters. She stared at them in disbelief, flopping them helplessly up and down, and then glanced at Wheeljack.

“Why aren’t these working, Jackie?!”

“So the relic _did_ perform maintenance to you,” Megatron hummed thoughtfully, extending his blade and lunging at Optimus, whose new first reflex was to recoil with a badly contained yelp. Ratchet’s frame had the honor of being the first Autobot to react correctly, diverting Megatron’s swing at his old friend. He took advantage of Megatron’s surprise, twisting the Decepticon’s arm back into its base form and trapping it between his surgical blades.

Starscream, meanwhile, went straight for Arcee, who was now flapping her arms wildly in her desperation for weapons. Bulkhead, in the midst of following Arcee’s arm-example in search of his wrecking balls, pounded in between her and Starscream just in time, where the Con ricocheted off his chassis. He rolled gracefully up from the ground and launched his missiles, earning a look of terror from the now-inexperienced Wrecker.

Bumblebee wore a similar expression as he sprinted away from Wheeljack’s side, shouting frantically, “Raf, get down!” Bulkhead followed the order, shaking and shielding his helm with his arms, and Bumblebee sprang over him and tackled the cursing Arcee/Miko with misjudged strength, propelling her fifteen, perhaps twenty yards, before landing on top of her.

“How does that scout speak?” Megatron growled, transforming his other hand and swiping the added blade at Ratchet’s helm. Thanks to Optimus’ reflexes, he was able to bend backwards, almost in half, to escape it. However, this freed Megatron to kick him away and pursue Bumblebee for the answer to his question.

Drawing his longswords, Wheeljack tore across the battlefield, placing his leading foot on Bulkhead’s fetal-positioned form as a launchpad to somersault through the air and catch Megatron from the side, redirecting his focus. Vaguely he heard Starscream order a nearby Vehicon to fire and felt the burn of lasers hitting his back, but directing his left-hand sword toward the noise ended that.

“All is not well amongst you,” Megatron remarked almost conversationally as Wheeljack swung furiously at him with his remaining blade. “What has that relic changed?”

“My worldview,” Wheeljack hissed, entirely _not_ in the mood to banter during battle.

“Wheeljack, fall back! You cannot take Megatron!” Ratchet’s voice rang sharply in his audial as one of the children-turned-Cybertronians miraculously managed to activate the open comm. channel. The command was a mere buzz among the rest:

“Get off of me! Lemme at those buckets of bolts!” Arcee’s voice, undoubtedly Miko. Behind that, the real Arcee was screeching unintelligibly, reaching the height of Miko’s vocal pitch.

“Misjudged the distance…” Bee’s unfamiliar groan, with Jack’s inflections. There was nothing in the background but heavy, panicked breaths due to the scout’s muting effect on Jack’s body.

“Raf, you’ve gotta focus!” Bulkhead pleaded with their youngest’s childish squeak. His usual baritone replied with far too much of a wobble in the words that he was scared and felt like he couldn’t move.

“Fall back!” Ratchet ordered again.

Wheeljack was lost in his adrenaline, in the pool of misplaced voices and identity, in his own chaotic thoughts and delayed realization that he was fighting Megatron— _alone_. Due to all of these factors, it didn’t quite compute that he was being given a _Prime_ directive.

Therefore he ignored it. The next thing he knew, Megatron’s cannon was rising to counter his movement, pulsing with a painful light that infused him with even more painful darkness.

—

Wheeljack had no qualms about groaning his agony as he returned online from stasis. When he recalled what had happened in his last moments of consciousness, he made to sit up, but Optimus’ hand stopped him.

“Ep-ep-ep, stay still.”

“How’d we get back here?” Wheeljack muttered, his optics tracking the ceiling of the medical bay.

“Agent Fowler and Nurse Darby arrived here not long after we left,” Ratchet’s voice drifted from the opposite side of the room as he approached. “Ms. Darby was concerned for Jack due to his lack of contact. They intercepted the comm. link channel and we were able to communicate our need for a ground bridge. We brought you back here, where Ratchet guided me through the process of treating your injuries.”

“Um…thanks, doc,” Wheeljack murmured, sitting up incrementally.

“Don’t call me that,” Optimus snapped. Though normally Wheeljack would have scoffed and disregarded this familiar scolding, hearing it in the Prime’s rigid voice made it matter a bit more.

“Sorry,” he apologized immediately. “And…sorry for sort of mutinying back there, big guy. I just wasn’t thinkin’ about you havin’ Ratchet’s voice, so all it did was confuse me and—yeah.”

 _Great, ‘sort of mutinying’_ , he mocked himself mentally. He and Optimus both knew he had problems being a team player and taking orders, even when Optimus was his usual tall, majestic self. Now that he was a short, stout medical Bot with a much less authoritative bearing, would he take greater offense? Read further into it than it ran?

“It’s understandable,” Ratchet placated, holding up a hand. “As a matter of fact, we were just in the process of examining the relic in the hopes of returning to our proper placements.”

Wheeljack watched intently as Ratchet handed Optimus the relic. Most of the outer shell had been removed, revealing two inner panels with several different blinking lights. On the left panel, the lights ranged in colors of yellow, blue, and cerise. On the right, all were entirely green.

“Optimus,” the Primedic started softly, “see if you can reach the wires tucked into that corner there. Boost my—your—sensory net by…fifteen percent.”

“Of course.”

They were handling this new form of functioning fairly well, Wheeljack mused, feeling a shred of surprise as he wondered if working together to treat _him_ was partly responsible. They were renowned for uniting almost effortlessly under pressure…or it could just be the fact that they were learning so much more about each other since they had swapped frames.

_Guess even these two could stand to learn a little more about—_

“Wait!” he called abruptly. “I think I know how to work the relic.”

Ratchet twisted Optimus’ body to frown at him. “You’re not a scientist, Wheeljack.”

“Got that right. I used to be, but I don’t _need_ to be,” Wheeljack countered, sliding from the medical berth and approaching. “Y’know what else I used to be? A mech with flashing audial strobes.”

The old friends glanced unsurely at each other and Wheeljack rolled his optics. “You of all mechs should know this—audial strobes can have a programming where they change color depending on the bot’s mood. Arcee—Miko—she said that the light turned green once Ratchet showed up.”

“That wasn’t my fault!”

“But it meant that there was a match for each of you,” Wheeljack continued, ignoring the indignant doctor. “It meant that it was, I quote, ‘go time’, and that’s when you all switched. This relic probably isn’t a weapon; it’s either a driving tool or a color game! You just have to switch this green panel to red.”

“And if your theory is incorrect…?” Optimus began.

Wheeljack lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Then your old friend stays Ratchimus Prime and you better brush up on medical procedure.”

Optimus sighed, rubbing Ratchet’s chevron and calculating. “We cannot allow the children’s families to be torn apart by their current Cybertronian status. Ratchet…”

The Prime’s medic heaved an even greater sigh and leaned down. “If we’re wrong about this, Optimus, I apologize for taking the Matrix you were blessed with, even if it wasn’t at all my intention.”

“‘If we’re wrong about this’?” Wheeljack echoed incredulously as Ratchet began pushing gold and cerise buttons. “It was _my_ idea!”

He was interrupted by a high-pitched whining as the remaining frame on the relic opened, its light piercing the med bay walls to no doubt pinpoint the other swaps. In the span of time that Wheeljack blinked, the green lights turned red and the relic was closing.

“Optimus…?” Ratchet tried tentatively, craning his face up to inspect the Prime, who leaned slightly down to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“I accept your apology,” Optimus declared with a warm smile. “And thank you, Wheeljack.”

The Wrecker grinned. “Not often I get to one-up you, doc.”

“I told you—!” Ratchet started to snarl before hesitating and then shaking his helm. “Never mind. Get back to your berth so I can make sure your energon levels are returning to normal.”

Sometime later, as he sipped his energon, Wheeljack noticed Miko clambering onto his foot. Huffing, he helped her out, picking her up carefully and setting her on the berth next to him.

“I have to talk to you,” she proclaimed with unusual seriousness, almost making Wheeljack doubt the relic had worked on restoring her to her proper self.

Swallowing the last of his medical grade, Wheeljack waved a hand. “Shoot, kid.”

“Jackie, you should tell Arcee you like her. In fact, you should ask her out! You could see a drive-in movie!”

That energon was making Wheeljack feel overheated and slightly sick as it went down.


End file.
